


rough justice

by Gildedstorm



Series: make a fury of me [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, in which everyone is salty and quinn does not die, inevitably critical but dw they'll work it out eventually, much to broonmark's dismay, obligatory quinncident reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedstorm/pseuds/Gildedstorm
Summary: She promised Quinn that she'd tell the crew when the time was right, but some promises are barely worth keeping.





	

“Vette?” She looked up from the holo-screen, frowning – that was Pierce at the door, which hadn’t exactly happened before. Sure, the ship was small enough that they were all pretty used to each other by now, but it wasn’t like they were close. Pierce was usually comming old war buddies or cleaning his weapons or tagging along for more Imperial missions. Sometimes they had drinks together, because at least _someone_ here had a good sense of humour. Right now, though, he looked surprisingly serious – an expression that made her instincts twinge with warning. “My lord wants to see you in the cargo bay.”

The cargo bay? That wasn’t any kind of usual meeting spot.

“Right, okay. I’ll be right there.” He nodded and moved off, heavy boots echoing in the hall. Why had Rkorya sent _him_ to fetch her? Usually she just got a quick comm, or if she was on ship, she’d just stop by herself. For all her nobility and haughty Sith airs, she was a lot more... personal, with the crew. Apparently anyone who was worth the trouble would get the nexu’s share of genuine interest and careful attention.

Thinking about it for too long made her head spin. There was luck, and then there was... well, being handed off to a Sith apprentice who became a rising star in the Empire _and_ who believed in freeing mouthy slaves.

Still, no point in hanging around in her quarters. Her blasters were always near to hand – she’d asked in one of those very confused first days, if she was allowed to keep weapons while on the ship, and Rkorya had looked at her like she’d gone mad. According to her, being able to efficiently answer any kind of threat was a lot more important than the risk of a slave turning a blaster on her – then again, even back then that might not have done much.

Holstering them, Vette headed over, senses alert for anything else that might be off. Sure enough, the ship was... a little quieter than it should have been. It didn’t take long to figure out why; almost _everyone_ was in the cargo bay.

“Wow,” she said uneasily, stopping just inside. “This is either a surprise party or a meeting of who to throw off the ship.”

“I _wish,_ ” Pierce muttered, which... did the opposite of helping her feel better.

“It’s fine, Vette,” Rkorya said, which wasn’t quite right – the air around her was doing that low hum of _danger_ but Vette had all kinds of experience with walking into danger at this point. “This is neither. You might consider it a proper debriefing, which I feel all of you are owed.”

“We’re missing one,” Jaesa said, hollowly nonchalant. She didn’t sound like she minded much.

“The Captain isn’t welcome to this session, and I’ve put him to some makeshift work that should keep him busy. Still, I’d like to keep this short.” Vette blinked. _Someone_ was in trouble – serious trouble, from the sound of it. “You all remember the incident with the transponder.”

“Yeah, you had to go steal one, right? With the Lieutenant, because for some reason you decided not to take me along.”

“With how it turned out, believe me, you wouldn’t have wanted to tag along,” Pierce put in, settling back as Rkorya glanced at him. “Sorry, my lord. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No need. It’s difficult to repress your feelings on the matter – I’ll tell the rest quickly. In short, the entire trip was a deception, meant as a trap for me and whoever I took along, set up by Quinn.” That got one of those weird, warbling growls from Broonmark – she could never be sure if Talz were _meant_ to make those sounds. “He betrayed me, or more accurately, remained loyal to Darth Baras from the start. The attack on the airlock, the leaks of information... those were his doing.”

_Oh_. Now the low-level rage simmering in the air made a lot more sense. Rkorya had spent a lot more time embracing her anger after that Draahg guy’s attack – she’d taken it even more personally than having a cave collapse on her. If Quinn had helped with all of that....

“So he finally decided to stop being squeaky-clean, and that’s how he does it? _Wow_. As bad ideas go, it’s almost impressive,” she said, trying to let it roll off her. So he’d tried to kill the person keeping _all_ of them safe, who had fought for them, who laughed at jokes and took in weird, bloodthirsty strays –

Okay, ignoring it wasn’t working out all that well.

“These layers of rage... it’s exquisite,” Jaesa murmured. “I see why you decided to handle it like this.”

<We do not see!> Broonmark said, looming as he turned to face Rkorya directly. Vette eased back juuust a little – he was big enough already, let alone when he was bristling for this. Rkorya, totally insane Sith that she was, just faced him down calmly. <Sith clan has been tainted. This is a traitor – let us kill him for Sith! We will cleanse the clan in his blood!>

“You know, me and the Talz don’t usually agree on much, my lord, but none of us would mind doing the honours,” Pierce added. “Just seeing him walking around as if nothing’s happened...”

“Not quite nothing,” Jaesa said. “He’s been steeping in regret for days, now. I wondered at the change, but I knew my master would tell me if it was anything important.”

“Which I just have,” she said, tilting her head. “Calm yourself, Broonmark. If I’d wanted him dead, I would have killed him myself. As it is, he will bear the marks of his punishment for a while yet, and know that his life was almost crushed in my grasp.” _There_ was the Sith they all knew and loved – after all, Vette had seen people do way less and get crushed or tossed around for their troubles. “Currently, we are at odds with most of the Dark Council, and only have subtle guidance from the Hand. Finding a competent and trustworthy officer to take Quinn’s place right now is nearly impossible. He is a traitor, but he still has his uses.”

“Oh,” Jaesa said softly, tilting her head back. “This is for _Baras_.”

“You learn well, my apprentice.” Was it just her, or had that feeling of visceral danger gotten a bit closer, pressed down a bit heavier? This was probably what humans meant about the hairs on the back of their neck standing up. “Having a tool of his turned against him, his plan rendered a failure... it will frustrate my former master to no end. And if he should prove his worth to me by the time Baras is dealt with... then we can drop him off somewhere suitable. Quesh, perhaps. Or Hoth. I’ve spent much time helping assure his reputation – I think it can handle a few dents if he makes it through this alive.”

Vette shook her head, realizing that she had to be the one person not on the murder train, since... well, everyone else was. Broonmark was still grumbling, just loud enough to make it hard to talk at a normal volume. “If the Emperor’s Wrath says someone’s not quite trustworthy... I’m guessing that’s going to be enough to keep him stuck on a backwater planet for a _long_ time. I’d say, ‘remind me not to get on your bad side’ but I remember that _all_ the time.”

Jaesa, it seemed, was still dreamily contemplating a future where you could keep people alive to infuriate other Sith about it. “Once again, my master, I’m in awe of your wisdom. I will remember this lesson, for when I have my own enemies to crush.”

“See that you do,” Rkorya said, sounding almost fond for a moment, before snapping back to sternness. “This anger that you feel – don’t stifle it. You may have to work with the man, but embrace your rage. He hurt you. You have _earned_ it. And while he asked me not to share what he did with you... I see no reason to. Let him feel every bitter result of his choices.”

<That is not enough,> Broonmark began, voice rising to a distressed snarl, but Rkorya straightened and this time all of them, even Jaesa, couldn’t help stepping back a little. Vette had gotten used to her presence, sure, but she always held back on the ship, kept whatever weird Sith things she did restrained. Now, for a moment, Vette thought she could hear the metal in the hold straining from the pressure. Then, in a flash, the feeling faded, if not the results. Pierce, she was a little pleased to notice, had paled, and Jaesa had deliberately leaned back against the wall for some support. Broonmark bowed his head hastily. <Forgive us, Sith. We pledged our life to you – we will not disobey.>

“No killing,” Rkorya said, softly now, but in that stunned quiet it sounded like it could have echoed down the halls. “But I understand how you all feel. If you wish to express some of that feeling towards the Captain... nothing that causes too much pain, or risks affecting the ship or my tasks.”

Pierce smirked, the expression slowly unfurling. “I can think of a few things to do within those limits, my lord.” He paused, which was distinctly not like him – enough to get the bulk of her attention. “It – it feels good, to get this all out in the open. Not every commander would bother, nor every Sith Lord, either.”

“It’s better, like this. To keep what transpired hidden would only make it fester. If I can draw power from my own anger... I feel I should honour all of you with the same opportunity.” She looked them all over one last time. “Make it count.” With that she swept out, cape billowing and Jaesa wordlessly tailing her.

Vette coughed into the awkward silence that followed. “You know, you kind of... forget, after a while. And then suddenly... _whoa_.” She’d been trying to sound just cool and totally used to Sith flinging their power around, but a note of awe crept in anyways. _Rude_.

“Whoa,” Pierce agreed, and then risked more than she would have dared, nudging Broonmark’s shoulder. “Cheer up, Talz. I’m sure my lord’s gotten some battles lined up planetside to take us on that’ll make you feel better. Even if we can’t, uh... cleanse our little clan right now, I bet, sure as anything, she’ll let us at him eventually.”

<We will wait,> he grumbled, but at least he was calming down – the cargo hold wasn’t all that spacious, and an angry Talz took up way more room than anyone would think.

“What about you, Vette? You don’t seem as eager to dump him.”

“What, just because I’m not itching for a fight like you or Fluffy over there? Captain Boredom’s been wanting to slap a collar back on me and ship me to Korriban since the moment we met,” she said, a little surprised at how calm her voice sounded. Maybe this was a little of what Rkorya felt like – angry but only letting it seep through when she wanted it to. “If he messes up, well... I know my way around killing someone when their back’s turned. Buuuut for now, I’m going to get a drink. This has been excitement enough for one day.” And then, because not being able to keep her mouth shut was a curse that even travelling with Imperial military and two Sith couldn’t cure, “We’re lucky, you know. To be here, with a Sith Lord like her. For him to give that up for some creepy Darth in a mask –”

“Yeah,” Pierce said sombrely. “I hope he’s kicking himself over turning his back on that until the day he dies.”

<May it be soon.>


End file.
